


History on the Run

by icandrawamoth



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Prequel Trilogy, Star Wars: Rise of Empire Era - All Media Types
Genre: Aurebesh, Gen, Journalism, News Media, Politics, Projecting? Who - me?, Rebellion, Self-Indulgent
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-26
Updated: 2017-02-26
Packaged: 2018-09-26 23:47:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,281
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9933197
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/icandrawamoth/pseuds/icandrawamoth
Summary: One door closes and another opens for a young journalist during the rise of the Empire.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Okay, so I'm gonna be real up-front about this: I was listening to a podcast about Trump and his treatment of the media, and it's kinda scary, so I pushed my feelings into a Star Wars fic (and stuck on a semi-happy ending), as one does. *shrug*
> 
> Title from a quote by Thomas Griffith: "Journalism is in fact history on the run."

“I can't publish this, Sana.”

The woman bristles immediately. Even before her editor swivels the desktop datapad towards her, she knows what the display shows: the draft of the article she's just sent him.

She lifts her chin. “And why not?”

Zhorin Relm pinches his nose. “You're one of my best reporters; don't play dumb with me. This is treason.”

Sana's mouth drops open. “ _Treason?_ ”

Zhorin looks her square in the eye. “You're calling the Chancellor a dictator, Sana. Do you really think he's going to take kindly to that?”

“He _is_ a dictator. And I don't care how he takes it. I'm an independent journalist; what I write isn't subject to his approval. You knew this was going to be a hard-hitting article. You know I don't pull punches.”

“Do I ever.” Zhorin leans back in his chair and pulls the datapad back toward him, scrolling through her article. He sighs and meets her eyes again. “I won't do it.”

Sana shoots to her feet, vibrating with anger. “Is the _Galactic City Reporter_ state-run now? You don't dare publish anything critical of our new overlord?”

“Dammit, girl, I'm trying to save you!” Zhorin's hands slam on the table as he rises too.

Sana's instincts are all screaming for her to fire back, but she suddenly can't. She takes a deep breath, tries to calm her racing blood. “I know the risks, Zhorin. I'm a journalist. I'm here to tell the truth, regardless of the consequences. _Blast_ , we shouldn't even be having this conversation! What kind of regime are we living under where telling the truth has _consequences_?”

Zhorin drops back into his chair, suddenly seeming to have gained many years. “This one,” he mutters. “I'm not going to let you put yourself at risk. I won't see you added to a blacklist, or disappeared. I need you where you are, and the people do, too. Write me another story.”

Sana grinds her teeth. It's true, she's heard stories that send chills down her spine of other reporters who have mysteriously gone missing. She has no doubts Palpatine and his cronies are behind it, but who can prove that? _Yet._ Another story she'd love to break, but with this development... “And if I refuse to back down?”

Zhorin's gaze is steady. “You lose your job.”

The shock of the threat is such a blow she can't even respond.

“You know I have a soft spot for you, Sana. You're been with me for years, and I've watched you grow into a fine young woman and a wonderful journalist. I'll give you one more chance. Back down on this.”

“Let me think it over,” Sana snaps and whirls from the room. It's the work of only a moment to grab her coat and purse from her desk, then she's on her way outside. It's early for lunch, but if she doesn't get out now, she knows she's going to say something she can't take back.

Not that she's hungry. This kind of fear-mongering, whether founded or not, makes her sick. It's painful enough to watch the democratic Republic she loves slide into dictatorship while so many ignore it; not being able to even _report the facts of it_ is more than she can bear.

Unable to even think about actually eating, she paces the green square near the _Reporter_ 's headquarters. What to do? She loves her job, both being a journalist in general and working for this outlet in particular. Zhorin has been good to her over the years, and she's made so many friends, both professional and personal. She doesn't want to leave, but her heart is already telling her it's her only choice if she wants to maintain her integrity.

And it's not like she _wants_ to put herself in danger. Zhorin has to know that. But she can't just stand idly by as all this happens. She has to _help_ , even if it's only in this small way. She has to report, to let the people know what's going on and allow them to make their own judgments and decisions. She can't just let Palpatine do everything behind closed doors, take over little by little until freedom is a past tense and no one knew until it was too late. Even if she ends up in a black torture chamber somewhere, it's worth it to her if her writing convinces even _one person_.

Her wrist comm chimes, and she grits her teeth. Her break isn't nearly over; does Zhorin really need to check up on her so soon? But a glance down doesn't show the familiar number – in fact, the caller's identification is scrambled. Sana's interest is piqued; it wouldn't be the first time she received a tip from a mysterious source. She keys the comm on. “Hello?”

“Sana Skye.” The voice is scrambled as well – male and most likely human, but otherwise unidentifiable.

“Yes. Who is this?”

“My name is not important. What is is this: you are currently trying to decide between retracting your latest story and keeping your job or leaving the _Galactic City Reporter_ in order to maintain your journalistic integrity.”

Sana whirls around, but the park is empty. She feels the hairs on the back of her neck rise. “How do you know that?”

“I represent a group of people that keeps its eyes out for like-minded free thinkers – rebels, if you will. A group that stands against Palpatine and his regime and seeks justice and freedom for all beings.”

“I'm listening...”

“We want you to work for us, Miss Skye. Retract your story and keep your position. Write what your editor demands. Toe the line. But continue your true investigations on your own. Use your contacts. Keep asking questions. And forward what you find to us. We will distribute these true stories, your real news, to all who care to listen, keeping them informed of what's really going on.”

The offer is tempting, Sana has to admit. “What's the catch?”

“There isn't one, aside from the additional danger to your person. These kinds of questions can put you in a precarious position, as I'm sure you are aware.”

“Yes, I'm aware,” Sana mutters. Her eyes are still nervously scanning her surroundings, but the area is decidedly empty save for her. She sinks onto a bench. “I have more questions.”

“I don't have time to answer them now,” the voice on the comm says regretfully. “But I will tell you as much as I can when I can. We can arrange a meeting. For now, return to your boss and tell him you wish to keep your job. Apologize, but do not grovel. Don't let on that anything is amiss.”

Sana huffs. “I'm actually a decent actor. Useful investigative skill.”

The comm crackles. A laugh? “I have no doubt of it. Do you agree to this, then?”

She needs to know more, but she likes the sound of it. The pragmatic part of her wonders if it might be some kind of trap. Perhaps the office was bugged and Palpatine and his thugs are onto her already? But her instincts say otherwise, and they've always treated her well. “Conditionally,” she hedges. “How do I get in touch with you?”

“You don't,” the voice says. “I will contact you again when the time is right. For now, go about your business as normal.” The comm disengages, and Sana stares at it for long moments.

 _Go about your business as normal._ She almost laughs. True journalism out the window, threats from her long-time boss and supposed friend, agreeing far too eagerly to become a spy in the heart of galactic politics? What _is_ normal anymore?

**Author's Note:**

> (I like to think the guy on the comm was Bail Organa.)
> 
> (Thanks to http://funtranslations.com/aurebesh for the translation.)


End file.
